


Nos Remittetur

by beebones



Category: OC - Fandom, OCs - Fandom, Original - Fandom, Original Work, orginal chatacters
Genre: Angels, Demons, F/F, F/M, Hell, M/M, Multi, OC, OCs - Freeform, Orginal Characters, Prophets, angel - Freeform, demon, heven, orginal work - Freeform, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebones/pseuds/beebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the begining there was nothing, then God said let their be light.<br/>For Dante his light always seemed to come from several other places. When the Angels began to fall around New York he found himself caught in the middle of something more. Those voices in his head had a purpose. Now he does too.<br/>(Probably plenty of accidents but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When the voices started Dante was about 9. The doctors chalked it up to schizophrenia or some kind of psychosis and filled his mouth with pills and his time with therapy. The better part of his child hood was spent poked and prodded and he learned to suppress what had cause this all in the first place. He was 18 when they came back louder than ever. Angry whispering in his head that could turn to shouting in a matter of moments. Sometimes it was so vivid the only thing he had to silence them was his prayer. It was two and a half years into the sounds, the summer of 2015 when he decided that he was done. He drove himself to the Brooklyn bridge at exactly two in the morning to throw himself off and finally silence the persistent roar he called his mind. He was exhausted and no amount of talking or drugs has so much as subdued the chatter. It had been just shy of a month without solid sleep. He was failing his courses, he wasn't writing for his band, he couldn't even trust himself to tattoo. He was desperate for silence.  
So there he was hands in his pocket, the cross his mother grave him wrapped tight in his fist, moments before he was going to throw himself off when the first one fell. He felt it, like getting the wind knocked out of him, like what he could only imagine hitting the water would be like. It took him a few moments to catch his breath before he shot his eyes to the sky almost as if asking the god he'd spent the past few years praying to, why. Then he saw it. A bright, blink-and-you'll-miss-it, streak of Crimson cut across the sky. It was like a knife had been quickly drug across the night and sparks had flown. He hadn't even collected his thoughts when his legs took off ahead of him at this point he just let them go. By the time his lungs stung and the scenery had left the view of the bridge he arrived at a small church with stain glass windows lit by the street lights. He sucked in a breath and had his mind not been racing about the situation he would have realized that for the first time in just shy of three years there was silence. He stepped inside the unlocked sanctuary and waited for his eyes to adjust. As his eyes adapted to the darkness he made out a shadow in a row of the pews slumped over. His heart was racing and part of him wanted nothing more to turn tail and run. He wasn't sure why he was there, or even remotely why he was trying to play hero when not even moments before he was going to haul himself over the railing of the Brooklyn bridge.   
He cleared his throat his voice almost failing him when he spoke "um... Hello?" He heard it shift and could just barely make out a glimmer of something. "Um... Are you okay?" The second line of word sounded more sure even as he realized the room smelled like burnt hair. His skin rise in goose bumps and it felt like there was a thunderstorm on its way. It once again shifted just enough where he made out the figure better. It looked to be a woman, dressed in nothing more than a silky rose colored slip. He felt his face flush as his eyes traced up her legs. She was... Shapely to say the least.   
"Boy..." She trilled softly, in a tone like church doves and fountains "I can hear your impure thoughts" she had damn near made him jump out of his skin. His heart was racing and he was even more flustered, thankful for the dark despite the situation.   
"Ma'am..." He started "can I help you?" She sat up her dark eyes just catching enough light where it felt like she was looking right through him.  
"I sure hope so," she purred, sending a shiver straight down Dante's spine. "I'm looking for my prophet... Have you seen her?" Dante shook his head and she frowned. Her lips were well shaped the Cupid's bow smooth and well lined. Her skin was a soft warm brown, just a few shades darker than his own. He approached once again this time close enough he could touch her. He held out a hand to help her up. She took it hesitantly. The moment they touched his heart slowed to a pace he could only describe as calm. She was soothing him in the most indescribable way possible. As soon as she was up she tucked her hands behind her back folding them neatly. "Dante, you seem like a good man... I'm sorry you were chosen by who you were but I promise once I find my prophet I'll be willing to help you."   
He nodded, already past the point of being able to question the situation. He doubted that he was even still alive at this point.  
"Man..." He started "I must have really fucked up and tried over dosing or something in my apartment because this is is wild... Shit..." He ran a hand over the back of his neck with a sigh.   
She stepped in front of him and locked eyes "I promise you Dante, you are far from dead..." And she cracked a smile that made his heart shake. "Now come on, her name is Anthem Madonna Grey and she will be getting up in four hours to go to school. I know where she lives I just... Need help getting there." He kinda threw in a dazed nod and followed her out of the church and onto the street. "Now Dante, lets go to your car, I think you parked it on the Brooklyn bridge." Again he nodded. Man this was one weird evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthem Grey: 17 year old aspiring artist, and now apparently a prophet for a fallen angel.

Anthem Grey was a 17 year old New York aspiring artist who lived with her father. she'd been diagnosed with manic depression, high anxiety, and an issue with compulsive lying. If you asked her, she'd hit the jack pot. Every Monday she had group sessions, every Friday it was private therapy, and she went to school Tuesday trough Thursday. She was smart, talented, and misunderstood (she said it was the perfect fuel for her art). As of this moment She was standing face to face with what seemed to be a very attractive, very poorly dressed, early late 20s year old woman. She blinked slowly at the woman in the door way before clearing her throat. "If you want my father, he's still asleep, late night and all..." Again she eyes the woman. She looked like a model, deep eyes, perfect lips, nutty colored skin. Hell she even smelled fantastic from where Anthem was standing, something of a mix of soft watery petals and sweet rain. "Who are you exactly?" Anthem finally questioned.   
The woman's face lit up and without a moments hesitation the she grabbed the teens hand and started tugging her out of the apartment. Anthem yelped. "What the hell lady! You can't just- stop! I have pepper spray- let go!" The abductee gave a good yank to her arm and freed herself. She took a few quick steps back and held up the can (a gift for her 16th birthday) and aimed. "Look lady, I don't know what you want but my dad doesn't have much money so really there is no point in trying to steal and sell me for meth money." The woman blinked, but her eyes were frantic. Finally she opened her mouth, and in a voice that could only be described as heavenly she spoke.  
"Anthem Madonna Grey, I'm so glad to finally meet you face to face, I'm your angel, and I need you to help me find the others, now come on, Dante is waiting down stairs and-"   
Without so much as a hesitation Anthem pressed the nozzle down spraying the so called angel in the face with the can of mace. The "Angel" let out a peeling shout and it what sounded like a fury of bird wings vanish. Anthem simply collapsed to the floor on her knees, dropping the can of mace as it rolled over to the golden feather that lay on the ground. God, her therapist was going to have a hay day with this one. Maybe she would need to add psychosis to her ever growing list of diagnostics. She picked up her phone and dialed a number.   
"Uh Doctor Pillson?" Her voice weak "yeah... I think I need to come in..."


	3. Chapter 3

Dante was beyond confused on how he managed to get himself into this situation. He was parked outside of some teenagers apartment listening to some poorly clad woman on how said girl is her prophet. With a deep sigh he placed his forehead against the wheel of his car. After everything had settled down and the woman took herself inside he realized his mind had been silent. He pulled in a breath and looked up. His mind was silent and he couldn't have felt more at peace.  
Of course that only lasted a few moments before what sounded like the flap of wings. The angel was in his care clutching her face.   
Dante was pressed against the car door to shocked to say anything. She hadn't been there a split second before.   
"What happened?" He finally spoke.   
All he received was a deep hiss from the woman.   
Before long she was talking lowly. It sounded distant and no where near as good as she had been before "the brat sprayed me with something." He covered his mouth holding the shock in. "You need to speak to her, tell her the images she will start seeing soon are for me and that she needs me."   
"I... I dunno-"  
"You must!" She looked up from her palm, face flushed red, her eyes completely void of pupils. Dante could feel his heart in his throat and he shook slightly. It finally clicked inside his mind that she wasn't simply a loon, but the actual embodiment of an angel. It terrified him.  
"Holy shit..." Those were the only words that he let slip out of his mouth.   
"Holy!?" She practically shrieked. "Holy is what I use to be Dante you stupid boy-" he winced. The words stung like his own mother has just slapped him across the face. Weren't Angels suppose to be nice.  
"Sorry" was all he could muster. He coughed "now what?" He was cautious with his words.   
"Now I need to think of way to get her to realize I'm not just some-" she stopped pursing her lips slightly. He eyes returned to a less violent burn and once again regained their pupils. The black tears now just simple smudges. He turned and faced the road. Why was he here. A quiet murmur in the back on his head made him sit up. He never much liked listening to them but after the brief lull it cause for his attention.   
".... She fell... Down down down" it sounded like a distorted conversation he was picking up through a broken radio.  
"Of course.... After what they did..."  
"Bad.... No wings... Just wait for the horns..."  
"How will.... Will she stay virtuous...."  
"No... Not pure..."  
His attention was brought back to the woman, or rather angel , in the seat next to him. She was looking directly into his eyes watching him. He blinked and cracked a false smile.   
"Are you... Do you hear them? Or do you see them?" She questioned softly with a furrow of her brows.  
"Hear..." The one word fell and he watched as her bare shoulders drooped.  
"Those are the Angels, that's why you're here.... That's why you of all people found me."   
He shook his head. "No... I'm psychotic, I have been since I was little..." Why now he was deciding to disagree he didn't know. After all the events, you'd think he'd accept it and realize it made the most sense.  
The woman beside him almost cartoonishly bristled. "No, you're a prophet, why don't you get that?"   
His voice dropped with his gaze "because why would I be deemed special" he looked away.  
"You humans are all the same." She dressed her shapely arms as Dante turned back quizzically. "You all act as if you're better than any then say something stupid like that. You're all important, but you're no better than any other living being." She frowned deeply and he realized what she was saying made sense. He didn't feel important. He didn't even feel all that unique. "Stop hating yourself Dante" she spoke again smoothly "I can hear and feel it when I'm near you... And it hurts... Self loathing gets you no where." He half nodded half shrugged. It wasn't like it was just a switch he could flick off.   
After a moment of him thinking past the noise he spoke "I'll go... I can talk to her... Or try to... What number was she in?"  
The angel perked up practically glowing "room 713" she cooed. He nodded, opening the door and stepping out to the road. "Thank you Dante... It means a lot." She sounded so genuine it made the tattooed man's heart ache softly.   
"Yeah..." He ran a hand over his neck and the shaved back of his head "it's not a problem..." He paused realizing he had no idea what her name was.  
"My name is Lady..." He nodded again throwing in a half smile and heading for the building. How on earth did he end up here.


	4. Chapter 4

After anthem has called the therapist she headed back inside flopping against the couch with a deep clearly frustrated sigh. One of her two cats came slinking out only to sit at her feet and meow. She scooped up the fat Russian breed and looked him dead in the face. "Fish... I'm going crazy..." The cat simply blinks slowly and meowed. She set the cat down and spun to the shuffling behind her. A sleepy eyed boy yawned and opened the fridge.   
"Anthem... Why are you still here?" He said pulling out the milk and eggs among a few other things.  
She shifted looking at her brother "I could ask you the same Parker..."  
He shrugged softly reaching for a large bowl "it's an off day at my school... You should know that I put it in the calendar."   
"Oh..." she paused watching the 11 year old shuffle through the kitchen and work his magic. "Whatcha making?"  
He grinned "I'm making French toast, want some?"   
She nodded lighting up, it was her and her father's favorite. "Want some help?"  
He nodded "yeah can you cut fruit for me?"  
She smiled reaching for the knives and cutting boards when the doorbell rang. She went ridged.  
Parker scooted past her and headed towards the door prying it open slightly and peeking outside.   
Dante stood there blank faced and blinking slowly. "H-hello..." He peaked behind the boy. "Is your... Is uh Anthem Grey home?"   
A voice sounded from the boy behind him "Parker... Who's at the door?" It sounded a teen girl with the classic New York style accent. The boys eyes widened and he opened the door.   
"Anthem" he called to her, not taking his eyes off Dante. "Anthem he's here for you."   
Dante shifted slightly obviously unsure of the situation. When the teen girl walked up wiping her hands of with a dish towel she froze mid stride. "Can I help you sir?" She said cautiously a gentle but fake smile on her mouth. The tattooed and very out of place man nodded, but then shrugged.   
"Yeah, I uh, need to talk to you... Privately."  
"Oh, um" she flicked her personality on a different page just like that. Giggling slightly she attempted to scoot her younger brother (who was indeed still staring) inside. "What can I help you with-"  
"Dante... I'm Dante." He would have held out his hand to shake her but some how he felt that wouldn't be rightly timed. "I actually need to talk to you about... About the woman that was just here."  
He round face drained of color and her cheesy smile dropped "w-why?" She managed out obviously nervous.   
"Well..." He stood up straight "she wasn't lying"


	5. Chapter 5

Lady sat in the car. Quietly thinking to herself. This was odd and complicate and the boy was a good listener but had such a dangerous counterpart. She felt increasingly bad for the boy and his complicated situation. Lady could only hope he was bringing Anthem to her sense with the whole thing. She shook her head softly when a faint pattern buzz through the car. She searched for the source of the noise and came to find a flat glowing screen that vibrated softly in her palm. "William Calling" read on the screen next to a decline and answer button. She promptly hit the answer button and waited.   
"Dante? I didn't wake you did I dude? Shit sorry my friend. I was just gunna say Jamie caught some wicked bug and won't be in today so practice is cancelled. With that news I wanted to ask if you wanted to like... You know... Hang out or something..." There was a pause with the voice in the box and Lady was unsure what to do or say. Again it spoke "Dante? You okay dude?"  
She cleared her throat and spoke clearly as she could "sorry William, Dante is quite busy right at this moment but I will be sure to-"  
"Wait, who's this? Is that a woman? It's only 9 in the morning did you spend the night?" The sudden barrage of questions caught the Angel off guard.   
"Well... Yes we spent the night together but-"  
"Fuck" he hissed out lowly before pulling in a breath. "What ever you don't need to tell him I called..."  
"I'm sure he'll be free later like you requested-"  
"It's fine... Doesn't really matter." Then the cellphone went silent.   
She put the object down and blinked slowly. Unsure what had just happened and if she said something wrong. She'd tell Dante anyways despite the voices insistence on her not to.  
-  
On the other side of the phone William cursed and toss the device onto his bed. Dante was with some... Some /woman/. Something inside of him twisted s d he felt sick. Sure Dante and him had been separated officially for a few months now but it still stung. He was always there for him. He shook his head a few loose strands falling about his face. Pushing out a sigh he grabbed the phone again and quickly texted his dear friend Fen with the news. He could only hope she was out of her classes.


End file.
